Melodia Magicae
by Feni
Summary: Harry Potter disappears from Privet Drive at a young age and is presumed dead. Years later Snape accidentally stumbles upon a musical prodigy named Lucas who shares the same emerald eyes. Instinct tells Snape something just isn't right, but little does he know the mystery behind Lucas is much more complicated than he initially expected.
1. Prelude - To the City of Wind

**A/N:** Welcome! If any of this seems familiar, this is the rewrite of my other story, Melody of Magic. I hope to be much less confusing here and keep it straight to the HP fandom.

The upcoming chapters will be longer, promise! After all, this is merely the prelude. :D

 **Image Song:** _Kaze no Machi He_ composed by Yuki Kajiura, featured in  Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle. It's truly a beautiful piece, and there's an English version of the song that stays true to the Japanese if you don't want to listen to the original.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or the image song.

* * *

 **Melodia Magicae**

 **Written by Fenikkusu**

 **Prelude – To the City of Wind**

* * *

 _Floating beyond time, there's a city made of wind  
_ _Please dear, take me there  
_ _Where dreams draped in white flowers come true  
_ ~Kaze no Machi He (English Dub)

Christmas was **supposed** to be a time when families came together.

Why then, was Harry Potter thrown outside with a hiss of "Freak!" from his Aunt Petunia? The five-year-old stared at the door of Number Four Privet Drive with wide, innocent eyes. They glimmered with unshed tears; there was no point in letting them fall anyway. In this temperature they would just freeze to his face. Harry's heart was done aching. If he became as cold and numb as this blizzard, he wouldn't hurt anymore. He wouldn't need to cry anymore.

He only burned a little bit of the Christmas ham. You could barely even see the dot of black. Harry was lucky enough to have the most meticulous aunt in the world. She placed a microscope to the piece of meat to search for any inconsistencies. If Aunt Petunia wasn't as picky as she was, no one would have noticed! If Aunt Marge weren't visiting for the Christmas season, maybe Aunt Petunia would've been less picky. Nevertheless Harry learned very early on not to keep his hopes up.

The boy's stomach growled, and pale hands pressed against it. It's not like Harry was going to get any of the food in the first place. He only wanted a little bit after everyone was done, after he was ordered to clean the table and get rid of the scraps… however few there were due to his uncle and cousin. Uncle Vernon and Dudley were fat enough already! Why couldn't they share any food with him? Aunt Marge verged on obesity herself. Even her **dog** looked fatter than the poor kid.

"Oh, honey," a feminine voice whispered. Young Harry turned around to see a woman dressed in pure white wool robes. A hood covered the majority of her face and hair from view, though with the wind one could see deep black strands fluttering about. The woman knelt down and gathered the boy into her arms. Harry couldn't help but melt into the warmth. "What are you doing here all alone? Where's your family?"

Harry's finger shook violently but stopped before pointing directly inside. Were they even his family? Would family do this? A part of Harry was frightened because he truly didn't know the answer to that question, though he didn't understand why he was afraid. The woman's grip tightened around him. She picked him up, pressing his head into the crook of her neck. Harry whimpered and curled closer; she was so warm. He'd never been hugged before, let alone be touched in any manner other than a harsh tug into the house or Cupboard.

He shivered not only from the cold; the Cupboard was for really bad boys like him. Would the Huggy Lady put him in one too? Harry hoped that she wouldn't, but he tightened his grip on her neck anyway.

The woman sighed, pressing a kiss to the boy's disheveled locks. Harry couldn't ignore the blossom of warmth. "Little One, why don't you come with me? I can take you away from these nasty people," she whispered to him, rubbing small circles in the boy's back. "You deserve a place where you'll be loved."

 _ **Love?**_ Harry thought to himself. _**Is love the warmth I feel? It's betta than Unca Vernon and Auntie Pet, right?**_ Harry nodded against her shoulder, eyes beginning to drop. He was just so tired.

"All right, then. Hold on tight!" the woman whispered to herself, as Harry had already passed out. The two disappeared with a distinctive pop that couldn't be heard over the howling winds.

* * *

A screeching alarm made both Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore jump. The older one turned to a simple clock mounted on a nearby wall. Instead of the normal numbers, there were words describing different types of situations. A swish of the Headmaster's wand silenced the annoying machine. He then took the time to pop a piece of candy into his mouth.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore muttered, glancing over at one hand of the clock. It pointed to _mortal peril_. "I must ask you to do something for me, Severus."

The man clad in intimidating black crossed his arms. "Anything, Headmaster," was the reply with a shred of sarcasm. Without the students and the rest of the staff here, the Potions Master was able to drop a few of his barriers. However some personality traits were too far ingrained at this point.

A slight smile crossed Dumbledore's wrinkled face. "My clock says that Harry Potter is in danger. Could you go che—"

"No."

"But Severus…" was the beginning of a plea.

"Absolutely not, Albus! I refuse. I am **not** the Potter-spawn's keeper!" The hiss from Snape reminded the Headmaster all too much of the weight of the house the young man bore.

The smile faded from Dumbledore's lips as he replied in a soft tone, "But you often forget that Harry is Lily's child as well." At this the younger man tensed like a snake preparing to strike. "I hear there's a blizzard by Harry's home. The clock may be malfunctioning, but I cannot check myself as I have the students to tend to." The Potions Master nodded; he knew Dumbledore was referring to the few children who stayed at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday. As the rest of staff spent the time with their own families, Dumbledore and Snape were the only ones at the school.

Severus would rather not think about why those children chose to stay at Hogwarts, though he knew why most of them did already. A good majority of them came from his own house, and Slytherin was unfortunately known to be the home the less… appreciated children. Coming from one such household himself, Severus knew better not to ask unless the students came to him first. The one exception was if the welfare of the student was in jeopardy.

"Very well, Headmaster," Snape replied tersely, his cloak billowing as he turned on his heel and began walking toward the door. Annoyance bled off of him in waves.

"Thank you, my boy," was the response before the door to the Headmaster's office slammed shut.

A quick walk and disapparation later, Snape found himself in the middle of the worst storm Little Whinging had seen in centuries. The wizard cast a warming charm and wrapped his cloak more firmly around him. Good thing that he apparated just outside the boundaries of Number Four Privet Drive, as the bustle of snowflakes made it impossible to see a few feet ahead. Silently cursing the Potter-boy for ruining his holiday, the man trudged forward.

He peered through the nearest window, which gave a view of a large feast and a family sitting around it. Severus grimaced; three of the four people sitting around the table were extremely overweight, while one woman remained as thin as a stick. _**Ah, Petunia,**_ Snape thought with a sneer. He would never forget the crow which was his precious Lily's sister, even if he hadn't seen her in decades. The disgust ever present in her eyes was a dead giveaway. When the lips of the inhabitants began to move, Severus whispered an amplification spell.

"My goodness! Is this ham **burned**?" the fat lady tsked, "I told you that boy was nothing but trouble! I'll sick Ripper on him again. Where's the damn brat?"

"I've already left him outside to think about what he's done," Petunia said without a care in the world. Severus' eyes narrowed. Didn't they know there was a blizzard occurring?

"I wanna throw snowballs at the Freak!" the youngest pig squealed, jumping up and down in his seat. His massive weight caused the dishes on the table to rattle.

"Finish your food first, Duddykins. Why don't you have Ripper join you?" the fat woman replied.

"You're stupid. Dogs can't throw snowballs!" The boy pointed and laughed, thereby knocking even more food off the plate onto the floor. The aforementioned dog lapped up the mess all too happily.

The supposed man of the house turned to the boy, "Dudders, don't call your Aunt Marge names."

"But she's stu—" Severus left the windowsill as the whale of a boy choked on something. _**What did they mean by 'left him outside'? Surely they cannot mean…**_ With a nagging tug in his chest, the professor slipped around the house to the back. Seeing no signs of life there he walked to the front door.

To his silent horror, there were faint indents of footprints on the front doorstep. His eyes narrowed as he could see the outline of the toes. That meant the boy hadn't been wearing shoes when he was thrown out by Petunia. Severus turned his head to the left. He could see larger boot-shaped tracks in the snow, but there was no sign of the Potter-boy. Snape cursed as he followed the larger footprints outside the boundaries of the house. He immediately disapparated and began sprinting toward the castle.

Dumbledore's clock wasn't broken. Harry Potter was gone.


	2. Movement 1 - Moonlight Sonata

**A/N:** I use a bit of musical terminology in this chapter, so please let me know if you guys would like detailed explanations in the future!

Ok, I realized I said 'one week later' a while. I'm really that terrible with deadlines. It also doesn't help that I rewrote this chapter over and over again. ;; Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!

 **Image Songs:** _Moonlight Sonata_ by Beethoven. I really love this piece, and I continue to play it even though I learned it many, many years ago. If it weren't so long, I'd have it memorized by now. We also have _Arabesque I_ by Debussy and _Preulde in C Major_ by Bach. I'm pretty sure if you look these up, you'll find how familiar they all sound.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own HP or the Image Songs.

* * *

 **Melody of Magic**

 **Written by Fenikkusu**

 **Movement I – Moonlight Sonata**

* * *

 _A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world._

 _~Oscar Wilde_

Severus Snape didn't expect to end up in New York City. In fact, he didn't expect to be looking for Harry Potter at all, at least not for this long. After the Potter-brat had the audacity to disappear on the entire wizarding world, Snape used all of his free time in the last three years to try and find him. He certainly couldn't refuse because Albus Dumbledore was the one calling the shots. Life debts couldn't be forgotten that easily.

The initial reaction of the Wizarding World to Potter's disappearance was none too pretty, and few knew of the actual situation. The most popular rumor was that Harry Potter was abducted by some dark wizard or witch, no thanks to the wonderful writers at the Daily Prophet. Snape was here to dispel those rumors by finding the boy and bringing him back to England, where he belonged. The blizzard didn't help his case any.

 _ **If there weren't so many muggles around, I would have raised some kind of physical barrier. The warming charms can only do so much,**_ the spy thought to himself as he wrapped his arms around his biceps. _**Perhaps now is not the best time. I need to find somewhere to apparate.**_ He had to grudgingly admit, however, that the restricting muggle layers he wore were definitely warmer than his robes and cloak would have been. As on the day the Boy-Who-Lived disappeared, the snow bustled around, making visibility an issue. Snape cursed beneath his breath. At this rate he would freeze before finding an abandoned alley. And that was saying something, considering just how many of those alleys New York had.

Seeing a warm light spill out onto the snow, Snape ducked into a nearby café. He shook out his down coat. The professor heard disgruntled whispers as the snowflakes from his coat melted all over the wood. He paid them no mind as he scanned the room for an empty booth. To his surprise, patrons littered the inside of the café. One part of Snape told him that they were just here to avoid the cold, but the other half said that they were here for a different reason. Many of their coats and sweaters weren't dripping wet like his, and the snowstorm picked up only recently.

No, they were here for a different reason, and that kept Snape's interest for now.

Snape slipped into the first empty booth he could find. Once he was settled in, he finally noticed gentle guitar music filling the area. People of all shapes and sizes looked toward the back of the café. The young children, even the babies, were silent. The song was not one the wizard recognized, and yet he found himself relaxing. It was almost as if the song was a part of a compulsion, but it didn't feel magical. Snape's eyes followed everyone else's to the source of the noise.

A young woman cradled a guitar close, lightly plucking at nylon strings. Her eyes were closed, but her fingers continued to move. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders nearly touching the ground. Bells strung by her temples kept the long strands from falling in front of her face. She was dressed in a white blouse and lilac skirt, sheer stockings showing slightly tanned skin.

The crowd clapped modesty once the song ended, and Snape subconsciously found himself clapping along. Once he realized this, he abruptly stopped. He ended up folding his hands atop the table. The musician opened her eyes, amethysts regarding the crowd. For a moment she met Snape's gaze. There was a shimmer in those eyes and a shiver down his spine.

He could have sworn that he felt the telltale nudge of legilimency. _**Impossible!**_ Snape thought, hastily erecting his occulmency barriers. By the time the shields were in place the performer was already looking away.

Then she smiled. Only one other person had a smile like that, one that could melt all of the snow outside and summon the sunshine in the same moment. _**Lily…**_ Snape remembered with a frown.

"Thank you for the applause," came the soft voice from the woman after she grabbed a microphone. "I know that you're all waiting for the real performance, though." She stood from a wooden stool, bringing her guitar with her. "Please, give it up for Lucas!"

A boy who looked far too small for his age stepped onto the stage. A mop of black hair sat atop his head, much like someone Severus **loathed**. A white poet's shirt sat under a deep green conductor's coat, manila slacks finishing the outfit. The spy's breath hitched when he caught the gaze of the boy.

He had Lily's eyes.

* * *

Lucas knew right away that tonight's performance had to be his best. As to why, he'd explain it as some kind of intuition, an **urge**. Something in his gut told him that someone important was going to be in the audience today. The eight-year-old boy gulped and paced backstage. He could already tell from the chatter outside that the café was packed. Not that he had stage fright anymore, but… Lucas bit the insides of his cheeks. He couldn't afford to mess up here! Mommywouldn't throw him out on the street like Aunt Petunia did all those years ago, though, so Lucas didn't need to worry about that. However, Lucas felt for sure that he needed to impress this important person.

As the door to the stage opened, soft light spilled backstage. A roar of applause followed suit. The performer gulped before taking a few tentative steps on stage. He scanned the crowd, trying to find someone who didn't quite belong there.

And found him he did. Lucas nearly took a step back as he locked gazes with a dark man sitting in a booth in the back. Although he was garbed in all black, Lucas didn't think he was a bad guy. On the contrary, Lucas thought he was as shocked as he himself was. It was the most obvious emotion shining in the onyx pools. There were other emotions there too, but if Lucas took the time to analyze them, the important man would catch Lucas staring.

A gentle hand upon his shoulder grounded him. "Follow your heart, honey," the woman whispered just loud enough for Lucas to hear. After a squeeze she disappeared backstage with her guitar.

Oh, right. He had a song to play. Lucas allowed a small smile to shape his lips as he turned to the baby grand. He ghosted his right hand over the keys with infinite care before sitting down at the bench, the dovetails of his coat falling precisely behind him. His right foot tested the right-most pedal, and Lucas nodded. Mommy made sure everything was perfect for him, all the time. He really needed to thank her again sometime soon.

First, though, he'd make a little change in the itinerary they had for tonight. Lucas took a deep breath and positioned his fingers above the keys.

* * *

There was no doubt… was there?

Lucas had to be Lily's son. But how in the world did he end up here? How did he get across the Atlantic Ocean? Was he living with someone magical? Three years had passed, so he could even be living with a muggle. How was he supposed to break the news to them if they **were** muggles?

The Potions Master could only stare as the boy's first note was a G sharp. A slow melody followed suit, contrasting against the warmth of the café. Snape's eyelids slipped shut as he allowed himself to get absorbed in the brooding melody of Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_. Each time a note was played, Snape relaxed. He didn't notice himself settling further into the cushions of the booth.

Snape couldn't help but feel mildly surprised at the emotion the boy used as he played. He matched each _crescendo_ and _decrescendo_ , but Lucas also added a twinge of emotion when each section ended. Not many professionals could play like Lucas could, and he was still so young. It would be a shame if the boy's talents were to go to waste, so Snape could only hope—wait, hope?—that he would continue to play the piano in such a matter.

When the first movement drew to a close, Snape opened his eyes again. His gaze narrowed when he noticed an odd aura surrounding the performer's fingertips. That further supported his theory that Lucas was Harry Potter. However, Lucas was not using the magic to **enhance** his playing. No, that wasn't it at all. Snape's eyebrows furrowed. The professor didn't know exactly how to describe what the magic was doing. The barely visible tendrils of light wrapped around Lucas' hands and sparkled when he pressed down on the keys.

That's when Snape caught sight of movement to his right. A steaming pot and a teacup were placed in front of him. Looking up he saw the first musician smiling down at him. Snape immediately threw up his mental shields at the odd amethyst eyes. "You looked cold," the young woman commented. "This one is on me." When Snape didn't move she took the pot and poured him a cup. The familiar scent of Earl Grey wafted up into his nose. "It's not poisoned or anything," she continued with a giggle as Snape's gaze fell to the cup.

The musician waved down a waitress and swiped an identical cup. She poured herself some of the drink and took a sip. Snape finally picked up the other cup on the table and sniffed. There wasn't the sweet tang of any poison, but as this was a muggle Snape couldn't be sure if she hadn't put anything else in the brew. But she herself took a sip, signifying it couldn't be poisoned…

He gingerly brought the cup to his lips. The tea was of a remarkably good quality considering this wasn't one of the posh restaurants in the city.

"So. What brings you to The Cat's Eye, Sourpuss?"

Snape nearly sputtered his tea everywhere. "Sourpuss?!"

A shrug. "All you've been doing since you got here is frown," the woman replied. One finger circled the rim of the porcelain. "With your hair, you really do look like a wet kitten. Kinda endearing in a…" She searched for the right term as Snape began to glower. "… feral sort of way."

"I do not appreciate the nickname," Snape gritted out. He couldn't help but take a larger swig to get rid of the sudden bitterness on his tongue. It would be a shame to waste good tea.

"Well then. You should introduce yourself like the proper British person you are!" The tone both scolded him like one of his dunderheads and teased him. "You **must** be British judging by that accent of yours."

Snape's eye twitched. "I am… Sebastian." The alias would work, especially considering its sibilant nature.

The woman nodded. "Fits you. No surname though? Interesting. I'll play along~" She reached out a dusky hand. "My name's Iris. A pleasure." Against his better judgement the wizard took the offered hand in a firm grip. "You never answered my question though… Sebastian."

Instead of giving an answer Snape turned his attention once again upon the young boy who was now playing the second movement of Beethoven's masterpiece. The chords compared to the previous movement began very uplifting, occasionally dipping into a minor. Snape found himself closing his eyes once again; not seeing a tiny smile appear on Iris' lips.

The third movement was something else entirely. Just after the eight minute mark the song completely changed. The speed at which the small hands were moving astounded him. And with how hard he was pressing down the keys, the strain on his hands must have been tremendous. The boy played as if he had decades of experience, the way the notes flowed one after the other. If Snape opened his eyes he was sure the boy would be moving his hands with the precision of a veteran Potions Master. Just how in the world was he playing so fast?

A thunderous applause arose from the crowd once the last note was played. Teenagers and adults alike stood from their places and clapped for the young boy on stage. Lucas clasped his hands in front of himself when he turned in his seat to acknowledge the applause with a slight bow of his head. Once the noise died down Lucas turned back to the piano and began to play another classical piece. Soft _arpeggios_ melted into loud chords before falling back in intensity, much like the ebb and flow of the seas.

Iris hummed. "Ah, Arabesque I." At Snape's puzzled expression she continued, "Many of the pieces Lucas plays are recognizable, but many people don't know the titles of the songs or their composers. This piece was composed by Debussy." She turned an expectant gaze back to Snape.

He sighed. She was one of the few people who wouldn't let something go so easily. Damn. "I happened to pass by when the storm increased suddenly." Snape admitted, inclining his head toward Lucas. "He is… talented."

Iris peered down at her tea with a tiny quirk of her lips upwards. "Yes, yes he is. All I did was warm the crowd up a bit. Lucas isn't old enough to play a full set, you see. We wouldn't want him to cramp his tiny hands and wrists with too many songs, ya know?"

Now Snape could press onwards. "You seem to know him well."

She looked back up at him, tucking a long strand of hair behind an ear. One of the bells jingled slightly. "And if I do? **You** seem to be oddly interested in him for a man who just **happened** to stumble in here during a Nor'easter." There was a shine of suspicion in the purple eyes.

Snape snapped his mouth shut. He had to give the muggle some credit. She was smarter than she let on. After a few minutes of the glare, Iris eventually relaxed at his silence and said nothing more. The two sat in the booth drinking the tea together with no more words spoken between them. It seemed like they were the only two truly silent during Lucas' performance. Everyone else seemed to be taking videos on some sort of small rectangular devices. Either that or they were murmuring softly amongst themselves.

From Debussy Lucas made a seamless transition to a Bach piece, according to Iris. Again this was a tune familiar to Snape's ears. They apparently used Bach's _Prelude_ _in C Major_ in many commercial advertisements in both the muggle and magical worlds. The complexity of the music drifted backwards into simple broken chords. Nevertheless it still sounded beautiful. _**Perhaps a piece to relax his fingers,**_ Snape conjectured.

Once the piece ended, the crowd once again roared with applause. The boy slowly pushed back the piano chair at the noise before standing up. He bowed with one hand folded over his stomach. His emerald eyes brightened with happiness and a hint of a smile sat on his face. Immediately, people began to crowd around the boy. Snape assumed they were asking for autographs; they were quite popular with the tourists, after all.

Iris stood, smoothing down her skirt. "With that, I need to get going." Was that sadness Snape heard tinting her tone? "Perhaps we should grab another cuppa when you come back around." She grabbed a tray from a waitress and piled their empty dishes atop it. As she brushed his hand, Snape felt an odd tingle. What did muggles call it again? Static electricity? "Maybe something a tad stronger next time, hm?" She added with a wink and walked away.

Now, back to the more important matter. Snape turned back to the front of the café to see Lucas surrounded by a crowd of patrons. The professor wasn't known as a patient man, so a tiny compulsion spell shouldn't be much of a surprise. Slowly the crowd parted, allowing Snape to approach the boy. A scowl appeared on his face when his thoughts were correct; he saw the boy signing autographs. However, that scowl faded little by little as he came to observe how the boy went about doing that.

James Potter would have been flaunting his skills, signing photographs left and right. He would be wearing that cocky smile of his while doing it. But Lucas… Lucas took each pen as if it were sacred. Instead of signing with a flourish as James would have, Lucas took his time signing whatever people gave him. James would have brushed off each fan. Instead, Lucas thanked each one individually with a soft smile on his face. A tiny bow and a handshake ended each interaction.

Albus was, again, infuriatingly correct. Lucas was both James **and** Lily's son.

When he finally was close enough to talk to the boy, the professor found himself at a loss of what to say. Unfortunately, his usual snide remark came out first. "Ah, Lucas. New York City's newest… celebrity." The piano player turned to him with a frown. A small blush painted his pale cheeks, and Lucas bit the inside of them as he squirmed beneath Snape's gaze.

 _ **Damn,**_ Snape chastised himself. _**I'm going to have to take a different approach.**_

"You performed… remarkably well today," Snape began, kneeling down so that they were at the same eye-level. A shy smile caused Snape's heart to clench; another one of Lily's smiles. "Not many know of—let alone are able to play with such emotion—all the movements of Beethoven's masterpiece. You also played the Debussy and Bach pieces well. You must be…" the man took some time to figure out the right word, one that he didn't use often, "proud." At this, a mad blush spread across Lucas' face. He nodded furiously, his fringe bobbing along with it.

His left forearm suddenly began to itch. Fear immediately gripped Snape's soul as he went to grip it with his right hand. Lucas didn't miss the grimace; he reached forward. Snape stood in one swift movement, taking a step back as well.

"Will you be returning here in the future?" the wizard asked in a rush. His grip increased with the intensity of the pain. Lucas nodded again. "I assume you will be present next Friday." Another nod. "I will return then." Lily's smile reappeared, if only for a moment. Lucas waved as Snape walked out of the café, the man not catching the pensive look on the boy's face.

As soon as he was out of sight, Snape hissed aloud. Thank goodness the snow had died down enough that he could duck into the nearest alleyway. He unsheathed his wand and aimed a cutting spell at his left arm. The seams of the jacket and shirt tore open cleanly revealing a pulsing Dark Mark.

 _ **This can't be possible. The Dark Lord is**_ _dead_ _ **,**_ Snape attempted to reason with himself. _**Unless… unless he is somehow still alive after the Killing Curse rebounded. There was neither a body to recover nor any ashes at Godric's Hollow. Oh Merlin…**_ Snape didn't notice the world tilting before he fell to the snowy ground, unconscious.


End file.
